Like They Know the Score
by icedintheveins
Summary: Santana's trying to piece herself back together and find something to do with her life. Kurt and Blaine are trying desperately to get a child. A chance run-in on the streets of New York solve everyone's problems. Klaine. Brittana. One-shot.


_for you, they'll be know more crying  
>for you, the sun will be shining<em>

_._

_to you, i'll give the world  
>to you, i'll never be cold<em>

_._

_and i love you, i love you, i love you  
>like never before.<em>

**songbird; fleetwood mac**

.

.

She never thought she'd fall this hard, but of course, she did.

She thought she'd had everything figured out. Graduating high school, actually getting into a good college, and then halfway into freshman year being accepted at a dance school in New York. She'd packed her bags and boarded a flight to arrive there and find out Brittany was in the city as well.

It was like her life was finally starting to make sense.

All the bad decisions she'd made, all the ridicule she'd faced in high school, all moments of feeling insecure. All of it just disappeared. She was one her way to being successful, along with the girl she loved.

She's not sure where it all went wrong, but she's guessing it had something to do with the last time she'd fought with Brittany and woken up in the morning to find her girlfriend packed and gone.

Things just went downhill after that. She'd lost her job at the dance studio, and was now stuck working in a stuffy office all day as a secretary. She hardly goes out to have fun, and when she does, she either ends up naked in some guy's bed, or passed out in the bathroom over the open toilet.

And when all seems lost, a glimmer of hope comes into her life in the shape of someone familiar.

.

.

After saying a polite "thank you," Kurt stalks towards the front door and pushes it open hard, trying to rid himself of frustration. A dramatic sigh leaves his lips as he crosses his arms over his chest and walks swiftly through the streets, the wind blowing fiercely.

He just doesn't understand why this has to be so complicated. He and Blaine waited long enough to marry, and now all they want is children. Why do they have to go through_ so much_ just to adopt a poor parentless baby?

He's just so tired of staying up late and filling out paperwork on nights when sleep is what he really needs most. He's tired of waiting for that call, butterflies darting around in his anxious stomach, only to hear that another couple had been chosen. He's tired of working extra shifts and giving up everything just so they can have a child that never seems to become theirs. And he's tired of, no matter how adorable they look, seeing Blaine in his glasses, because he only ever wears them when he's exhausted and/or stressed.

He's just tired of all their hard work resulting in not but what they want most, but a strained relationship and tense conversations.

A little stab of painful longing goes through Kurt's heart, and he gives another, more helpless sigh as he comes to a stop at the curb before crossing a busy street.

A few raindrops fall overhead, and within seconds, it's sprinkling, and Kurt rolls his eyes, thinking of how it's just his luck. How everything seems to be going against him today. How everything and everybody wish to get in his way.

He wraps his arms tighter around his torso and ducks his head down, watching his feet as he walks.

The rain starts to come down harder and he thinks of getting home, into his and Blaine's warm apartment. Of sinking down into his favorite armchair and curling up with a cup of tea and the book he's read-

He smacks into someone, falling backward onto the hard, wet cement.

"I'm so sorr-"

"Oh God, I'm sorry! Let me help y-"

He looks up, squinting and a girl with a sweep of dark hair and soft brown eyes is holding out a hand to him. She holds a battered umbrella over her head and she's dressed in a pencil skirt and blazer, looking very professional.

He freezes, and so does she, recognizing each other.

"Kurt?" she asks, a smiling lighting up her face. "Kurt Hummel?"

"Actually," Kurt says, taking her hand and pulling himself up. "It's Kurt Hummel-Anderson now."

Her smile grows wider. "So you and Blaine really did get hitched then?" She laughs a little, holding her umbrella over him.

"Santana," Kurt says, smiling back, "would like to go get some coffee and catch up?"

She nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. "I'd love that."

.

.

They squeeze themselves into a tiny booth in a stuffy, quaint little coffee shop, warming up their hands on cardboard cups of coffee - Kurt with his usual medium drip, and Santana with a white-chocolate latte. Kurt quickly sends a text to Blaine, telling him he'll be a bit late before turning to Santana, cocking his head in a sort of thoughtful manner.

"So where are you working?" he asks. "You look a bit too conservative and put-together for casual wear."

Santana offers a small laugh. "I work as a secretary for a firm just up a good fifteen blocks."

"Really?" Kurt asks. "Are you going to school?"

"No," Santana says. "I was working at a dance studio as an instructor up until a few months ago. Personal things got to me and I was slacking off, so . . . they fired me."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Kurt says, giving her a little pout of the lips.

"Oh, it's fine," Santana assures, waving her hand absently. "I actually have a job interview this weekend for a choreography business in Brooklyn."

"That's good," Kurt muses, taking a sip of his coffee.

"So what about you?" Santana asks. "What are you and Blaine doing?"

Kurt swallows, bringing the cup away from his lips. "I'm a head designer for a multi-corporation fashion label," he says with a humble smile. "And Blaine is a music professor at NYU."

"Wow," Santana mutters, her eyebrows shooting up her forehead. "You guys are doing well."

Kurt nods, crossing his legs underneath the table. "So what about you? Any girls in your life? Are you and Brittany . . ?"

Kurt watches as her jaw tightens, her eyes lowering down to the table. "No," she says quietly. "We got in a fight a couple months ago, and when I woke up, she was gone. We haven't spoken since. I don't even know where she is." Her voice cracks slightly, and her eyes glisten with held-back tears.

"I'm . . I'm sorry," Kurt says quietly, reaching his hand out as if to touch her comfortingly, but he doesn't. He feels a little wrench in his gut, and feels horrible for bringing it up. It's not like he could've known, but he doesn't want to be the one to bring back painful memories.

"It's okay," Santana lies, wiping a shaking hand across her eye. "I mean, obviously we weren't meant to be." She heaves a sigh. It's quiet for an awkward moment before she attempts to get the conversation going again. "So you and Blaine – when, when was the wedding? I'm sorry I couldn't make it."

"Well, actually it was pretty quiet," Kurt says, shifting his weight. "Just our families mostly. We had it outside – in the suburbs. It was wonderful."

"And the honeymoon?" Santana asks, flashing him a teasing grin.

Kurt laughs. "The honeymoon was fantastic," he assures. "And actually . . right now, we're – we're trying to adopt."

A sincere smile appears once again on Santana's face. "Are you serious?" she asks.

Kurt nods, biting his lip.

"Kurt, that's great!" Santana says, genuinely happy.

"It is," Kurt agrees, looking at the table as his finger traces a circle on the top of it, over and over. "However, it hasn't exactly been working out."

"Why not?" Santana asks.

"Just . . a lot of things," Kurt sighs. "Paperwork, other couples getting in the way, money . . it's all a lot work."

Santana looks away from him, biting her cheek.

"So, I was thinking about finding a surrogate," Kurt continues.

She looks back up, something ringing in the back of her mind.

"It would be nice if our children had at least one of our genes," Kurt says, a small, admiring smirk tugging at his lips. He looks out the window, thoughtful, dreaming. "I just don't know how well it would work. We just need someone we can trust."

He sighs again after a moment of silence, and turns back, reaching for his coffee. He takes a sip as Santana stares at her own cup with on odd and curious sort of look on her face.

.

.

"Blaine!" Kurt calls as he comes through the front door. He shrugs out of his peacoat, hanging it on one of the hooks on the wall. "Blaine?"

"In here, sweetheart," Blaine answers from the kitchen.

The smell of pasta surrounds Kurt as he walks through the living room. He peers around the open archway to the kitchen, smiling as he sees his husband, leaning over the stove, stirring around a pan of sauce.

"Hello, love," Kurt says, voice low. He steps forward and wraps a careful arm around Blaine's waist, kissing his ear softly.

"Hey, babe," Blaine replies. "Where've you been?"

"Well," Kurt says as he pulls back, but leaves his arm around Blaine, "I ran into someone after leaving the adoption center. Someone from glee."

"Who?" Blaine asks absentmindedly.

"Santana Lopez," Kurt replies. He straightens up, releasing Blaine, and leans his back against the counter next to the stove.

Blaine turns to look at him, slightly stunned. "Really? What's she doing in New York?"

"Well, right now she's working at a law firm," Kurt says. "But she's looking for work in choreography and dance."

"Mmmm," Blaine muses.

"And she isn't with Brittany," Kurt continues. "They fought or something. I guess it was bad because Brittany moved out."

"That's a shame," Blaine says, glancing at him with disapproving eyes. "They seemed almost as perfect as us."

Kurt laughs lightly. "Well," he sighs. "I hope they find each other again and work everything out."

Blaine nods, but he's not really paying attention and Kurt chews on his cheek, suppressing a sigh.

"Blaine?" he asks.

He turns, looking back at Kurt, his eyes wide. "Yeah?"

"There's something else I wanted to talk to you about."

.

.

Santana leans back, resting her head on the back of the armchair. She heaves a deep breath, turning her eyes to look at the picture of her and Brittany on the nightstand, the glass smashed. Her eyes burn, welling with tears and she curses under breath, pushing them back.

She rolls over in the seat, curling up into a ball and wrapping her arms around her knees.

Her conversation with Kurt earlier that day comes back, and a few words and sentences keep jumping out her. She tries, but she just can't shake them. It's like they're stuck in her brain, buried there until she acts on them.

Obviously, right now her life is going nowhere.

She does have that job interview, but she hasn't danced since Brittany left. It hurts too much because dancing reminds her of the best time of her life. Of working through hard days at the dance studio, being her best and shining bright and proud. Of coming home to snuggle with her girlfriend. Of late night kisses and whispered conversations when they should be sleeping.

Dancing makes her heart ache with all the memories, and right now, she feels like it would be best if she just continued on, taking a break from it and worked out the rest of her life first.

She wants to feel worth something, though. She wants to be able to count people, and have them count on her. She wants to do something worthwhile, and there those words come again, jumping to the forefront of her mind.

_I was thinking about finding a surrogate._

_It would be nice if our children had at least one of our genes._

_We just need someone we can trust._

They could trust her, right?

.

.

"But wait – what's wrong with adopting?"

Blaine looks at Kurt across the kitchen table, an utterly confused expression his face.

"N – nothing," Kurt assures. He pauses, heaving a sigh. "It's just – you know how hard it's been for us to make any sort of dent in the whole process. We keep getting our hopes up and working so hard, and we're just . . not getting through. We keep getting let down."

Blaine nods, his eyebrows furrowing with thoughtfulness.

"However," Kurt says, his voice going higher-pitched and taking on that adorable quality it always has when he gets excited about something, "there's always another option . . "

Blaine bites his lip, avoiding Kurt's gaze. "A surrogate? I – I don't know."

"Why not?" Kurt asks, leaning his head forward a little. "Blaine – I mean – the kid would have one of our genes too. I mean imagine it – a little girl with dark curly hair running around – or – or a boy with bright blue eyes." He breaks off, suppressing a dreamy smile.

"But so much could go wrong," Blaine argues, looking back to him.

"Like how?" Kurt asks. "I mean, really – there's enough going wrong with adoption already."

"It's just – " Blaine purses his lips, folding his hands together. "What if the surrogate loses the baby – or what if she decides later that she can't part with it? Kurt, my aunt can't have children and her and her husband were going to adopt from someone who couldn't take care of the baby at that point in her life, but in the end, the mother decided she couldn't give the kid up. She kept her, and it crushed my aunt and uncle. It was horrible."

Kurt nods for a moment. He reaches forward, taking Blaine's hand in his.

"We just have to find someone we know – someone we trust. And not to mention – get lawyers involved so that doesn't happen."

Blaine doesn't answer, but stares back at him, thinking. He chews at his lip a moment, trying to find the right words for a further argument, but he can't. "Alright," he says, giving in. "Find someone, Kurt. And then we'll – we'll have our baby."

Kurt smiles, entwining their fingers. "You can count me," he says softly, and Blaine grins, rubbing his thumb across the top of Kurt's hand.

.

.

It's harder than Kurt thinks.

Finding someone to carry his and/or Blaine's child is no easy feat. He would've liked to ask Rachel, but he knows that her and Finn have their hands full with little Shelby, and the whole situation might be a little too odd for their family to deal with at this point in time. Shelby wouldn't quite understand, and like Blaine's worries, it might be hard for Rachel to give up the child.

He knows Mercedes is trying to jump-start her career, and she and Sam are still trying to find a nice place to settle into, and he doesn't want to bother her with something so consuming.

Outside of those two, he doesn't really keep contact with anyone else.

From time to time, he'll hear from Quinn, but he knows after her disastrous high school experience with pregnancy, being their surrogate is out of question.

His mind wanders off to the women he and Blaine have met while living in New York. There's a lovely math professor Blaine works with who Kurt knows wouldn't have a problem giving them the child, but she's also turning forty this year and might not want to deal with the struggles of pregnancy. There's also Jess – the cheerful junior designer who's on Kurt's design team, but she's also trying to work her way up through the departments, trying to get a solid, well-paying position, and Kurt would feel awkward asking her to do something like this.

It's late into the night, and Kurt sits, scrolling through his contacts on his laptop, mentally picking apart each woman and if they would be suited to carry his and Blaine's son or daughter. Kurt brings a hand up to his face, rubbing his palm across his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to stay awake. He glances toward the bottom of his screen, and sees that the time is nearly eleven.

The floorboards creak behind him, and Kurt glances back as Blaine walks forward.

"You're still up?" Blaine asks. He steps forward and places his hands gently on Kurt's shoulders, squeezing them.

"Yeah – I'm – I'm looking through my contacts," Kurt replies, stifling a yawn.

"Any luck?"

"No," Kurt mutters sadly.

Blaine leans down, kissing the top of Kurt's silky head. "It's okay," he says softly. "We'll find someone."

Kurt sighs, powering down his laptop and closing it.

"Come to bed, sweetheart," Blaine says. "You look exhausted."

Kurt obliges, pushing himself up slowly from the armchair, and goes with Blaine to the bedroom, resting his head on Blaine's shoulder as he walks.

.

.

Santana sits at her kitchen table, gripping a mug of coffee tightly in her hands.

She hadn't slept well the night before and she's having a hard time fully waking up. Her eyes ache with tiredness and her limbs feel like jelly. She brings the coffee to her lips, taking a bitter sip and then rests her cheek against her hand.

She just cannot stop thinking about her conversation with Kurt, and that odd, warm feeling she'd got when listening him talk about a surrogate.

And she wants to do it.

She really does. She doesn't know how or if they'd let her or if she can. It's going to be difficult, but she needs to do something like this. She has to do something with her life. Something that makes her feel whole and proud and _worth something._

But it would be such a drastic change. She's never been pregnant before, and she's not doing it to start her own family; she's doing it to help out another. It will be strange, exhausting, emotional, but she's determined.

She looks at the clock, her heart racing, and slowly, she reaches for her cell phone off of the kitchen table in front of her. She scrolls through her contacts and stops at _Kurt Hummel-Anderson._

Her finger hovers over the select button, and then she presses it.

.

.

Kurt feels his phone vibrate in the pocket of his blazer, and he leans backward, swallowing his bite of breakfast before picking it up.

The caller ID reads _Santana Lopez_, and his eyebrows furrow curiously as he presses TALK and holds it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Kurt," she says nervously. "I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time."

"No, no," Kurt assures. "I was just leaving for work in about fifteen minutes."

"I won't take too long then," Santana says. Kurt hears her take a deep breath before continuing. "There's something serious I wanted to talk to you about."

Kurt blinks awkwardly before saying, "Okay?"

"It's about something you brought up in the coffee shop the other day. I've been thinking about it a lot and I just – " she breaks off, letting out a sigh. "You don't have to even consider me, but I just want you to know, I've prepared myself, I've worked everything out, and – and, well . . I'd like to offer to be your surrogate."

The line is silent for a moment as Kurt feels light-headed and his heart does a weird flip-flop in his chest. Santana's heart races as she waits impatiently for his answer, hoping she hadn't been too forward.

At last, Kurt breathes, "Are – are you sure? Because I mean – you better not be messing with me, Santana."

"I'm not," Santana says honestly. "I'm not one hundred percent sure why, but I really want to do this, Kurt."

"Oh my God," Kurt says, smiling widely. "I – thank you. Thank you so much, Santana. I can't even tell you what this means to Blaine and me."

"No, Kurt," Santana argues. "Thank _you._ I really need to do this. I can't tell you why this is so important to me – I don't honestly know – but it is."

"I – can I call you back?" Kurt asks, breath uneven. "I want to tell Blaine."

"Of course – that's fine," Santana assures.

"Thanks again," Kurt says, and he hangs up, springing up from his seat and racing to the bathroom. "Blaine," he says, voice shaking.

He turns from the mirror, looking at his husband, and instantly he looks concerned. He moves forward, his hands reaching out slowly.

"Kurt, what's wrong?" he asks, anxious.

Kurt meets him, taking his Blaine's hands in his.

"We're going to be fathers, Blaine," he whispers.

"You found someone?" Blaine asks, eyes widening, eyebrows shooting upward.

Kurt nods, pressing his lips together.

"Oh my God," Blaine breathes. "Kurt, are you - ? We – we're going to be fathers. Oh God."

They throw their arms around each other, hugging fiercely. Blaine kisses Kurt's ear softly while he cries, giving him a gentle squeeze.

.

.

And now the journey begins.

It takes about three months before Santana can actually attempt to get pregnant. She goes through more tests than she thought were possible. She fills out a mental questionnaire that takes nearly two and a half hours, and then meets with a psychiatrist to discuss if she's ready to take on something like this – especially since she's going to be a traditional surrogate and the baby will be biological hers along with either Kurt or Blaine's.

She goes in for various examinations – a vaginal ultrasound, a pap smear, a hysteroscopy. They start out a bit awkward, because it's all in preparation for her getting pregnant – something she thought she wouldn't be doing in a long time. But after awhile, she begins to get excited, and she cooperates very well, wanting to be thorough with it all. Everything needs to be just right if she's going to be carrying the child.

Along with the medical issues, there's the legal. Her and Kurt and Blaine as a couple both need lawyers to make sure everything is executed out fairly and as easily as possibly. Because she's doing this as an independent surrogate, and not through an agency, it's just the slightest bit more complicated. However, it isn't entirely too bad, because the three of them _know_ each other, and they've experienced with Rachel and her mother what a mess surrogacy can be.

The contracts actually turn out to be fairly simple. Santana is gained a fair amount of custody to the child. If something should happen to Kurt and Blaine, the baby is legally hers. She's allowed to see her child at the consent of Kurt and Blaine, and the child is allowed to know when the three of them decide that Santana is his or her mother.

Through all of this, Santana also has to really start monitoring her menstrual cycle, and figure out when her ovulation days are. She figures it out without too many problems, and after they've got everything settled and ready, her, Kurt, and Blaine head for the hospital on her next ovulation day.

She sits nervously in the waiting room on Kurt's left, twiddling her fingers together. It's so unlike her to be this anxious, but she can hardly help it. This is it. Today, she's (hopefully) getting pregnant.

"Are you doing okay?" Kurt leans over, asking softly.

"Just nervous," she replies.

Kurt reaches over and takes her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It's going to be fine. You're going to be a wonderful mother."

A strange warmth floods her cheeks, and she smiles sincerely. "Thanks."

Kurt nods, and within seconds, they're called back.

They enter a larger room, and the doctor turns to them right away. "Alright, so, you three are here for an intrauterine insemination?"

"Yes," Blaine says, and Santana nods.

"Great. I'm Doctor Smith and I'll be the one working with you three for the majority of this pregnancy."

He reaches out, shaking all three of their hands with a bright smile on his face.

"We'll get started right away then," he says, pulling out his clipboard to go over their information. "First off, I'd like to get the fathers over into another room so we can take your sperm samples. And then we'll proceed with the mother."

They're doing the same as Rachel's fathers did, so it's a fair chance at whoever the father's going to be.

Kurt and Blaine follow after Dr. Smith, clasping their hands together as they walk, trying to hide their excited smiles.

.

.

It's kind of odd, but Blaine can't help the flutter in his heart as he looks at the samples. In them, there's one little sperm – either his or Kurt's – that's going to help make part of their child. It's a bit of a shock, really, that they're here – they're doing this and he and Kurt are finally going to be parents.

It's hard to believe he was originally against this, too caught up in the negatives to realize how truly great this option and opportunity really is. How not only are they having children, but they're going to go through the whole process. They're going to watch as their son or daughter grows from an egg to a baby. They're going to be there when he or she is born, and he or she is going to be their biological child.

Their little baby could have Kurt's swirling, sea green and blue eyes, or Blaine dark, silky curls. They could have Kurt's adorable nose, or hopefully if it'd be a boy – Blaine's thick, triangular eyebrows.

It's truly a miracle to Blaine, and he can't help the tightness in his lungs, the lump in his throat, the burning in his eyes. He looks towards Kurt, a watery smile on his face.

"Hey," he whispers.

Kurt leans into him, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Hello."

"We're going to be fathers," Blaine says, trying to understand the thought.

Kurt simply laughs, kissing his cheek.

.

.

Santana waits, perched atop the paper-covered bed, her heart thumping fiercely in her chest. Kurt and Blaine are back in the room, but Dr. Smith is somewhere, else, cleaning the sperm samples, getting them ready to be put in a catheter that will be inserted in Santana's uterus.

She sits, staring at the far wall and taking deep, slow breaths to prepare herself. This is not something she'd ever imagined herself having to get ready for, but here she is, and there's no going back.

Dr. Smith returns, and he politely asks Kurt and Blaine if they'd rather wait out in the hall while this is done, just to make things easier for Santana, and they oblige, but not before going over to her and giving her some reassurance. Blaine gives her shoulder a squeeze, and Kurt rubs her knee as he leans forward to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you for doing this," he whispers, tears sparkling in his eyes.

"It means a lot," Blaine adds.

"Good luck," Kurt says, and Santana gives a forced smile as they turn and leave.

.

.

It's a short procedure – it really only takes about fifteen minutes, but when it's over, it feels like it's been a lifetime. She pushes herself upward into a sitting position carefully, though nothing feels different. She sort of imagines it does.

Dr. Smith turns to glance at her as he throws his rubber gloves into the trash.

"Does everything feel alright?" he asks. "No discomfort?"

She nods. "I didn't feel anything at all."

"That's good," Smith says. "Now, all you need to do for the next few weeks is look for signs of pregnancy. If you do get pregnant, I want you to call me, and we'll set up everything you need for the next nine months. This will just be a normal pregnancy – the baby was simply conceived a little differently. And if you don't get pregnant, we'll just bring you back in and try the procedure again."

Santana nods again, understanding.

"Great," Smith continues. "Thank you for your cooperation. You're free to go, and if you need anything – if anything feels the slightest bit strange – just call me. Alright?"

"Alright," Santana says. She gets carefully to her feet, unnaturally cautious. "Thanks for everything."

"Of course," Smith says, and he shakes her hand one last time before she leaves the room, meeting Kurt and Blaine out in the hallway.

.

.

Four weeks later, she holds a stick in her hand, a little pink plus sign staring up at her, and it's like her heart is blowing up inside of her chest.

.

.

Kurt receives the call just after dinner.

It's been nearly a month, and he and Blaine were preparing for it to not have worked. They'd been working out another time for them to go in and try again. It usually didn't work the first time – it was very possible for them to have to try at least five times before it did, but then his phone starts vibrating in his pocket and he pulls it out. The caller ID shows that it's Santana and his breath starts coming fast and he shoots Blaine a look that says, _"It's her" _and Blaine's over within in seconds, placing his hand on Kurt's back.

He presses TALK, and before he's even finished saying "Hello," she blurts out, "I'm pregnant."

And then Kurt's springing up from his seat, clamping a hand over his mouth to silence his squeal, and Blaine's doubling over, laughing obnoxiously and Santana is chuckling on the other line as she listens to them.

When he's calmed down enough, Kurt gasps out, "You're sure – you're one hundred percent sure?"

"It's positive, Kurt," Santana says calmly.

And then he squeals one more time, wrapping his arms tightly around Blaine's neck, the phone dangling from his right hand. He pulls back, putting the speaker to his ear.

"Okay, okay," he says breathlessly. "We'll just have to figure out a time to go back to the clinic. Get everything checked out."

"I'll look over my schedule and call you back, okay?" Santana says.

"That's – that's fine," Kurt assures. "And now if you excuse me, Santana, Blaine and I have a child to prepare for."

She laughs again wishes him goodbye.

.

.

The first person they call is Blaine's mother, and she's absolutely ecstatic, screaming at the other end of the phone and wishing them luck over and over, telling them how much she loves them and how happy she is for them.

Kurt's parents' call goes a little faster. Carole shrieks as they break the news, and his father goes on this rant about how proud he is of Kurt, and how he's come to love Blaine as a son with the years gone by and how he's looking forward to adding another Hummel to the family. Kurt and Blaine are both crying at the end of the call, and when they let Carole and Burt go, their voices are thick and Kurt's cracks particularly bad.

Next is the biggest and hardest one, the one that's going to be the most draining: Rachel.

Kurt dials the number, wiping the tears from their last call, and waits patiently, putting the call on speakerphone.

She answers after the third ring, just as cheerful as ever.

"Hello, Kurt," she says, and he can practically see her beam.

"Hi, Rachel," he replies quickly. "Is – is Finn there? We need to speak to him too."

"We?" she asks.

"Hey, Rach," Blaine says, rolling his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Oh - Blaine," she says. "I get the feeling you two have something important to say."

"Very important," Kurt says. "So go get Finn. Now!"

"Pushy, pushy," Rachel mutters. The line is silent for a moment, and then they can hear Rachel say, "Finn? Finn, sweetheart, Kurt and Blaine are on the phone."

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

"Hey, bro," Finn greets. "I'm here – what's up?"

"Well," Kurt starts. "Blaine and I have some very exciting news."

"We were trying to adopt for months," Blaine says.

Rachel gives a little gaspy squeal.

"But we stopped trying a few months ago," Kurt continues. "Because we got the idea of a surrogate, and well, we found one. I'd ran into Santana just a few days before, and she called me to offer, and well – now she's pregnant. We're having a baby."

It's just like Kurt and Blaine expected – Rachel screams, and Finn doesn't say a thing – shocked into speechlessness.

"Oh my God, Kurt, Blaine, are you serious?" Rachel asks excitedly.

"We're serious," Blaine assures, laughing a little.

"And _Santana's_ your surrogate?" Finn asks, disbelieving.

"Strange, right," Kurt agrees.

Finn laughs. "Just a little."

"So do you know if it's a girl or boy?" Rachel asks. "Do you have names picked out?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Calm, Rachel," Blaine says. "She only told us she was pregnant hours ago. She's only a few weeks along."

"But we'll keep you posted on _everything_, okay?" Kurt says, his wide smile audible in his voice.

"Promise?" Rachel asks.

"Of course," Kurt replies.

"Your fingers better not be crossed behind your back, Kurt Hummel."

He laughs, loud and truthful. "They're not – don't worry."

"Well, I suppose we should let you go," Rachel says. "So you can plan and whatnot."

"I'll talk to you soon though," Kurt assures.

"Congratulations, again," Finn says. "I'm really happy for you two."

"Thanks," Kurt and Blaine say at the same time, then look at each other, sharing a grin.

"Bye, guys," Finn says.

"Goodbye," Kurt replies.

He clicks the END button and turns to Blaine, letting out a deep breath.

"A bit painful?" Blaine asks.

Kurt nods. "I think I might've forgotten how stressful this is going to be."

Blaine chuckles, then leans over, planting a soft kiss on Kurt's jawline, just where it meets his earlobe. "I think I can help relieve some of the stress," he murmurs in a low voice.

Kurt gives a giggle. "Guess I'm in luck then."

.

.

They're scheduled to go back to the clinic with Santana in about three weeks, so in the meantime, Kurt and Blaine work out some important issues.

Before going into the adoption agency, they'd started looking at houses out in the suburbs – ones with huge bay windows and spacious rooms and large, lush yards for their child to play in. However, once they realized how long the whole process was going to take, they put all further planning on hold until they knew for sure they would be getting a son or daughter.

Well, now they know, and even though the have eight months, they don't want to waste a moment to prepare for their little angel.

It's a sunny, but chilly fall afternoon as they drive out of the city, heading out to houses Kurt has printed out ads of. The sun beats down on the windshield as they roam around the streets, glinting through the glass. A gentle breeze picks up when they're outside, scoping out yards and neighborhoods.

One of their first stops is in a cluster of streets full of similar, mass-built modern houses. It's a two-car garage, with a lovely cobblestone walkway to the glass front door. Kurt and Blaine follow uncertainly after the real estate agent, timidly entering the house.

The front entryway is entirely open, a wooden staircase to their left, and a spacious living room spanned out in front of them, connected to the kitchen by a granite-counter bar. Everything is fairly new and seemingly unused. It's clean and pristine, very simple.

Upstairs, there are three large bedrooms, and the two of them share a look as they reach the smallest one, both of them imagining the space filled with a crib, changing table, and rocking chair, the walls decorated with cheesy wallpaper.

They decide that this house is definitely one to consider.

They explore a few more house over the course of the day – and more than one are a lot less nice than they seem in the ads. One in particular is obviously infested with a horrendous amount of mold, and the two of them leave as fast as they can.

Though others do catch their eyes.

There's a beautiful one in a small neighborhood, just on the edge of water, with an incredibly huge yard and an in-ground pool connected to the patio.

The rooms are all connected very openly too, similar to the first one, and the two bedrooms are good sizes for what they want.

They're leaning towards that one and the first when they reach their last stop, but instantly something of the old, Victorian home takes Blaine's breath away. There's a lovely balcony he sees just outside the upstairs windows before they step onto the spacious porch.

Inside, they can tell some things have been redone. The wood-paneled floors have been polished and replaced in some parts. The kitchen appliances are all brand new stainless steel. Afternoon sunlight shines through thick, new glass. The stairs leading upstairs are also wooden – looking sturdier than they should be. There are three bedrooms, the master the one with the beautiful balcony. The others face the pristine backyard, and Blaine could easily see turning the smaller of the two into a cozy nursery.

They thank the real estate agent before returning to their car. Blaine looks longingly after the house as they drive away.

"I think I know which one you liked best," Kurt says with a smile.

.

.

Things start to happen pretty quickly after Santana finds out she's pregnant.

The fatigue is a tidal wave, and it's more of a chore than usual to get up and go to work. She finds that her body starts to ache a bit, her breasts become tender and she finds that she has to pee more than usual.

Morning sickness kicks in right away too, and she has to rush to the bathroom randomly throughout the day. Her appetite takes drastic turns, and more than anything, she finds a lot of foods practically repulsive.

And as if she hadn't already been screwed up emotionally, she experiences crazy mood swings, getting annoyed with clients who come through the door, and lashing out at people on the streets.

It's all strange and new, but she knows it's for a good cause, and that's what gets her through.

.

.

This time around, everybody seems a bit more excited to be at the clinic. Still incredibly nervous, yes, but more so happy. Santana already sits with her hand resting on her stomach, wanting to protect the life that's growing just beneath her skin. Kurt and Blaine stand closer together, shoulder-to-shoulder, fingers intertwined

"Well, I guess first time's the charm with you," Dr. Smith says as they enter the room, a smile curving his lips. "Doesn't happen very often. I would say that's a good sign."

Santana nods as if she's interested, sitting down on the edge of the bed, her fingers still glued to her abdomen.

Smith starts by asking her a few questions, asking for the first date of her last period, any and all medications she's on, and family medical history. He then turns to Kurt and Blaine, asking them similar questions, jotting everything down.

He turns back to Santana, asking how's she's feeling, how the symptoms seem to be affecting her, and how she's dealing with all of this mentally. She reports that she's doing fine except for the fatigue, the nausea, and the achiness, and he just smiles and laughs, telling her that she should probably get used to it. She scowls.

"Okay," Dr. Smith says as he sets his clipboard down next to his computer. "There are a few tests I want to do today."

It turns out to be more than few tests – but they're all pretty general. He checks her weight, takes her blood pressure, examines her urine, and measures her abdomen, showing that indeed she is growing a miniscule bump. The next ones involve the baby. He listens to its heartbeat and checks it's positioning.

"Alright, Santana," he says. "It looks like your running a very healthy pregnancy. Just keep up what you're doing, check back in here, and you're likely to have no problems."

.

.

It's not only Santana's life that begins to change relatively fast.

Kurt and Blaine begin packing up their apartment pretty quickly after they buy the house. Blaine had come out victorious and they are now moving into the nice, homey Victorian house, perfect for their family.

It's an odd sort of grieving feeling to be tearing down the apartment they've lived in since they were in college. All the old memories come back with each new box that fills up, and they find themselves reminiscing, thinking of how much they've changed in just six years.

They're no longer high school sweethearts trying to make it in the world. They're married with solid jobs, and now it's time they officially settled down.

It's weird to think of the steps their taking. It's like they're giving up a part of their lives, and in reality – they are. They're giving up a lot of their freedom. They're giving up much of their alone time together, much of their money, much of their love.

It's new and it's different, but they think they can get used to it.

.

.

Santana hardly thought about how this would affect her personal life while she was preparing, but she starts to realize once she receives the longer-than-usual glances, and the questioning looks as she walks around with the growing baby bump.

She knows what they all assume.

It's not brought up very openly, but people sort of know she's a slut. That to get over her disastrous break up with the only girl she's ever loved, she slept around and got drunk. It was her way of dealing with the pain, and now everyone thinks she's carrying the consequences.

And for those who don't see her, or know her as a whore, the little bump comes off as a warning sign to people interested, telling them that she's in a strong relationship and there's no chance for them. Which couldn't be more opposite.

It's another long, tiring day at work, and she's in the bathroom, bent over the toilet, coughing and gagging. She lets out a sigh as she stands up, flushing. She comes out of the stall to find one of her co-workers turning back with an anxious expression her face.

Alexa is new to the company – she's young, just a year or two younger than Santana, and she's a very sweet and caring woman.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

"I'm fine," Santana assures.

"You sure you don't need to take the rest of the day off?" Alexa presses, her expression soft.

"Honestly, I'm okay," Santana says. "It's just morning sickness."

And the inevitable widening of the eyes and mouth opening overcomes Alexa, and she stutters out, "O- oh? You're . . pregnant?"

Santana nods, and a thought forms in her brain. Maybe she could use this pregnancy to her advantage. "I'm a surrogate for two of my lovely gay friends. They were having trouble finding someone, so I offered."

"Aww. Well, that was very generous of you," Alexa says, and Santana knows she's succeeding. Alexa looks down to the ground awkwardly, rubbing at her neck. "Um . . I've heard around – are – are you - ?"

Santana lets out a small laugh. "I'm a lesbian," she confirms.

Alexa nods, trying to hide her overexcited smile. "Well, then – umm . . would you maybe like to go out to dinner this Friday?"

"I'd love that," Santana says slyly, and she flashes Alexa a sassy smile before exiting the bathroom.

.

.

She flicks on the lights as she enters her apartment, heavy eyelids drooping as she struggles for her bedroom.

Carefully, she lowers herself into her bed, letting out a dramatic sigh.

Really, the date when fantastic. Her and Alexa had more in common than she had originally suspected. They conversations had no problem carrying on, and they made each laugh quite easily. It was fun, it was sweet, but – it just wasn't the same.

Because Alexa wasn't blonde, and she didn't make adorably stupid remarks that made Santana have to clutch at her stomach because she was laughing so hard, and she didn't say such honest and sweet things that tugged at Santana's heart and made her remember why she loved the girl.

Because Alexa wasn't Brittany.

And Santana's trying – she honestly is. She's trying desperately to get over her, but not even going out on dates, not even giving her time to another woman, not even this pregnancy is enough to take her mind and heart off of Brittany.

She loves her. Santana loves her so much it's kind of painful. And all she wants is another chance. She just wants to apologize, she wants to promise that she'll never upset Brittany again, that she always will love her and that there's nothing that can change that.

But for now, it seems too late.

.

.

"It looks pretty nice," Finn says, looking around the room, his hands resting on his hips.

"It looks like a furniture store threw up," Kurt says, eyeing all the half-filled boxes and random chairs thrown around the room and his and Blaine's bed frame and mattress set up against the wall next to a knocked over lamp.

"We'll clean it up later," Blaine mumbles from the couch, where he's laying happily, eyes closed.

They'd spent the whole day moving. Taking things from the truck and hauling them inside, dumping the furniture in the living room and the boxes near the front entrance. Now they were going to have actually start putting things in the rooms where they belonged.

Finn sighs, walking over and collapsing at Blaine's feet. "I think we should just let Kurt handle it," he says, putting his hands behind his head. "He's good with decorations and stuff."

Kurt crosses his arms, raising his eyebrows at his brother.

"Hey, remember when you redid our room?" Finn asks, turning his head around to look at Kurt. "It was awesome. You could do that to this house."

"Oh yeah," Kurt says sarcastically, cocking his head. "Because you thought it was so wonderful."

"I was sixteen," Finn protests. "And you had a crush on me and that was very awkward."

"Oh my god, can we not talk about this right now?" Kurt says, covering his face with his hands. "Especially in front of my husband."

Blaine chuckles loudly from the couch, making adorable gasps in between laughs. Finn stifles a laugh, smirking.

"I'm your brother," Finn says. "It's my job."

"Well, right now," Kurt says. "It is my brother's job to get off his ass and help me take a bunch of stuff upstairs."

Finn groans as he pushes himself up off the couch. "Why can't you ask your husband to do it?"

"Believe me," Kurt says, picking up a box full of books and picture frames. "You don't want to argue with Blaine when's tired. Not smart."

"Hey – !"

"Love you, babe," Kurt calls as he heads upstairs.

.

.

Today is a big day.

They have another appointment, and Santana is having an ultrasound. Today, Kurt and Blaine find out what their baby looks like. Today, they find out if they're having a son or a daughter, and it's nerve-wracking and exciting and amazing all at once.

"Okay, Santana," Dr. Smith says. "I want you to lie down and pull up your shirt." He now turns to the two men who are waiting patiently in chairs by the door. "Kurt, Blaine – I think you two would like to see your child."

They glance at each uncertainly, eyes filling with tears, and with their fingers entwined, they step forward to the side of the hospital bed, looking toward the screen.

"This is going to be cold," Smith warns, and gently, he spreads the gel over Santana's slightly-swelled abdomen, rubbing it into her skin.

She inhales sharply at the chill but then relaxes, looking towards the screen too as Smith now takes the sonogram instrument and smoothes it over her stomach.

Kurt gives a little gasp, and Blaine squeezes his fingers, biting down on his lips.

The black-and-white image is blurry, but it's there – the shape of a forming baby.

"Ah, there we go," Smith says. "The circle on top is your baby's head. And that curve is the back. You can just barely make out the feet and hands here – " he points " – and here."

"So is it . . ?" Blaine leaves the question hanging.

"A boy," Smith says. "Definitely a boy."

Kurt gasps again, but it's more of an attempt to keep from sobbing. Blaine can't hide his shaky, face-splitting smile, and he wraps his arm around Kurt's waist, pulling him close.

"That's our son," he whispers, and Kurt nods, resting his head against Blaine's for a moment.

Smith watches them smiling, and asks, "So I take it you two will want the DVD?"

.

.

Rachel stares admirably at the screen, gripping Kurt's fingers tightly.

"Oh my God, he's beautiful, you two," she breathes.

Blaine chuckles, "You can hardly make him out – what are you talking about?"

Rachel glares at him in return.

"But yes," Blaine agrees sincerely, turning his eyes to his son. "He's beautiful."

"Do you know whose he is?" Finn asks, tearing his gaze away from the sonogram to look at Kurt.

"Uhh . . no," Kurt says slowly, attempting to free his hand from Rachel's grasp. "I imagine we won't find out until he's actually born."

Finn doesn't answer, turning his embarrassed and disappointed expression back towards the image of Kurt and Blaine's son.

"So, have you guys narrowed down any names?" Rachel asks, glancing between them.

"Well," Kurt starts. "I already told Blaine that we couldn't name him Luke or Harry or Spock."

"I never suggested any of those," Blaine says loudly, his mouth agape.

"You were thinking them," Kurt says, with a defiant nod. "I know you."

"Only Luke," Blaine mutters.

"But I've been thinking of a few names, yes," Kurt continues. "I really like the name James. Or Virgil. Something unique."

"Wait, wait, wait," Blaine says, holding up his hand. _ "Virgil?"_

"It's a very nice name," Kurt says indignantly.

Blaine opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it, smirking.

"What?" Kurt asks.

Blaine shakes his head. "Nothing, nothing," he says. "But we're definitely going to have to discuss names seriously."

Kurt simply rolls his eyes, turning back towards Finn and Rachel.

.

.

"Kurt, we can't just shop for clothes all day," Blaine sighs. "Our son needs somewhere to sleep. He needs a place to put those clothes."

"But Blaine," Kurt protests. "Look at this adorable jacket." He picks up the small jean jacket, showing his husband.

"Yes, yes it's cute," Blaine says. "But at this rate, our son's going to have to come out to us as straight. Now, come on."

"How do you know he won't be gay?" Kurt asks, picking up another item of clothing.

"_Kurt,"_ Blaine says warningly.

Kurt heaves an overdramatic sigh. "I'm coming, I'm coming." He rushes after Blaine, the shopping bags around his wrists rustling. They move towards the furniture section of the store, heading towards the nursery area, stocked up with cribs, changing tables, and rocking chairs.

"So, what exactly is in our budget?" Blaine asks, turning to Kurt.

Kurt simply grins. "Just let me handle this." He walks forward, eyeing a few of the cribs.

Blaine follows after, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Dark wood would go well with the decorations we already have," Kurt says. "And we're going to need something sturdy if the kid's as reckless as you are."

Blaine's eyes widen, and he feels the warmth rising in his cheeks. "He could be your kid," he coughs.

Kurt smiles. "Either way."

"Anyway," Blaine says quickly. "Are we going to get a regular crib, or one . . like this with the . . " He gestures to it helplessly.

"With a changing table?" Kurt asks. "Well, these would be more convenient, and I do like the look of these. They'd fit nicely in that little corner away from the window – you know what one I'm talking about it?"

"Yeah, yeah," Blaine answers, nodding. "How's the price though?"

"Well," Kurt says, looking towards a regular crib. "I don't think it's too much more considering the convenience, and – " He grips the side railing, giving the display model a shake. "It's pretty sturdy. I really like this one," he decides.

After another hour of long, tiring debating, the two of them are shoving a brand new crib/changing table, rocking chair, and dresser into the trunk of their SUV.

.

.

Blaine's hunched over what looks like useless pieces of wood, attempting to screw one into the other, gripping the screwdriver tightly, a look of concentration on his face. Putting together the crib has proved to be extremely difficult thus far.

Just as he's about to secure two parts of the crib frame, Kurt bursts into the room, clutching the ringing phone in his hand.

"Blaine," he says, confused. "I – I think you're father's on the phone."

Blaine freezes, the screwdriver falling from his grip. "What – what's the caller ID?" he forces out.

"Alan Anderson," Kurt says, holding it out to him.

Blaine moves slowly, in a sort of robotic manner, his expression one of mingled disgust and dread. He takes the receiver from Kurt's hand and presses TALK, holding the phone up to his ear.

"He- hello?" he says uncertainly.

"Hello, Blaine."

It is his father, his voice rough, and the sound of it brings back painful memories, crawling underneath Blaine's skin.

"What – what do you want?" Blaine asks harshly.

Kurt swallows hard, watching him apprehensively, twiddling his fingers together.

"Your mother, uhh . . she told me that you and your . . husband – you guys found a surrogate. You're having kids."

"So did you call to tell me that it's wrong and disgusting and that my son should just get used to not having a grandfather?" Blaine asks, his voice filled with acid.

"It's a boy?" Alan asks.

"What does it matter to you?" Blaine spits.

Alan sighs. "Look – Blaine, listen – "

"Why should I?" Blaine asks, his voice rising. "You didn't even show up to Kurt's and my wedding! Do you know how I felt, Dad? Do you know that I spent a good hour crying before I went up to the altar? The wedding was halted because I didn't want to go out there and not see my own father in the audience. I didn't want to remember that he thought that me loving a man was so disgusting. I – I – " He breaks off, heaving a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

Kurt's hand involuntarily reaches out, longing to comfort him.

"Blaine, I know you're mad at me," Alan says softly. "And I know you don't want to forgive me. I know you want nothing to do with me. But I just wanted to say congratulations. And I – I hope you and Kurt are happy. I would really like the chance to start over and possibly get to know my son-in-law and my grandson."

Blaine stands there, utterly silent and stunned for a moment, not sure if he should be raging or ecstatic. He feels dizzy and sick, and yet, like some huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

"Yeah – yeah, sure," he finally chokes out, his voice quiet. "I'd like that too. I'll – I'll talk to you later, Dad. I'm a bit busy at the moment."

"Alright, son," Alan says, and Blaine notes that there's only the faintest hint of emotion in his voice when he calls Blaine his son.

The last Blaine knew, he was only his mother's son.

The line goes quiet, and Blaine stands there frozen still, slowly moving the receiver down from his ear.

"Blaine?" Kurt asks anxiously.

He looks up, eyes broken, his mouth parted. "I – I – "

"Are you okay?" Kurt asks, stepping over to him.

"Yeah, I – " Blaine sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"Come here," Kurt says, and he wraps his arms around Blaine.

Blaine collapses against him and sobs for what feels like forever, unsure if they're tears of joy or sadness or a mixture of both.

.

.

Now five months along, Santana's getting fairly big. She finds it hard to move around – getting up and down, bending over, going to sleep – it's all so difficult, but the thought of what it's all leading up to keeps her going.

However she's not so sure one chilly spring evening when she's out shopping for groceries. She's grabbing a thing of cream cheese (which she's suddenly been craving to dip pretzels in) when she spots that length of bright blonde hair. She does a double-take and freezes, because it does look like her, but she's worried she's starting to go crazy.

But then the girl turns around and there's no denying it.

"Brittany?" she calls out.

She looks up, confused as usual for a moment and then she sees Santana. She doesn't smile, but she doesn't look angry.

"I – I didn't know you were back in New York," Santana says, rushing forward.

"I left your apartment, not the city," Brittany snaps back, and Santana cringes.

She should've realized that already, and it's kind of ironic how_ Brittany_ is telling her off for being stupid.

"I miss you," Santana blurts, but Brittany doesn't seem to buy it. Her expression stays hard, cold.

"Well, it obviously doesn't look like it," Brittany counters, gesturing to Santana's very swollen stomach. "What – did you just move on right away?"

"Brittany, come on," Santana pleads. "You know I'm a lesbian."

"So you're just sleeping around again?" Brittany says, crossing her arms and shrugging awkwardly.

Hurt crosses Santana's expression, and she opens her mouth and closes it more than once as she attempts to find the right words to say.

"Is that honestly what you think of me?" Santana asks. "What – do you think I'd be so heartless as to just sleep with someone and say – oh what the hell, I guess I never did love Brittany? Do you honestly think that much of me?"

"No, San, but – "

"I'm a surrogate, Brittany," Santana says, and she goes on because Brittany suddenly looks perplexed. "I'm having a kid for Kurt and Blaine," she says. "After you left, I felt worthless – I felt like my life had no meaning. And here was my chance. Kurt and Blaine are good people, and even better friends. Kurt's stayed up with me several nights after Blaine has gone to sleep and listened while I talked and talked about you. They helped me get through, and I'm doing this in return."

"Santana, I didn't – "

"You never know," Santana says, fighting the tears in her eyes. "You started judging me just like everyone else."

She turns on her heel and walks from the store, leaving everything, including Brittany, behind.

.

.

"It's going to be alright, Santana," Kurt says soothingly, rubbing her back and holding a handful of tissues in front of her.

"But, God, why am I so stupid?" she asks, frustrated. "Why do I say shit like that?"

"You were angry," Kurt says. "It's going to okay. I promise you. You two will work this out."

Blaine suddenly speaks up from his spot in armchair. "And, Santana, Brittany obviously still likes you. I mean it seems like the whole pregnancy thing really scared her. She was hurt and confused by the fact that you could've been in a committed relationship with someone else."

"Exactly. Good point," Kurt agrees. "Just don't give up on her yet, Santana. It's just a rough patch – a really rough patch – but I know you two will make it through."

It's quiet for a moment as Santana sniffles and attempts to calm herself. She heaves a few deep breaths, wiping the tears from her eyes, eyeliner coming off on her trembling fingers.

"Thank you guys," she chokes out. "I just – " And then the strangest thing happens.

She hunches forward, issuing a little grunt and her hand flies to her stomach.

"Santana, what's wrong?" Kurt asks anxiously.

"She's not going into labor, is she?" Blaine asks, leaping from his seat.

"She's only five months," Kurt replies, shaking his head at his husband's momentary idiocy.

"Calm down," Santana says, straightening back up. "He just kicked. That's all."

"Kicked?" Kurt asks excitedly. "What?"

"Yeah," Santana says, a small smile forming through her tears. "He'll probably do it again – come here – quickly."

Kurt scoots closer, and Blaine kneels down beside her. She takes their hands and presses them carefully to her stomach right next to each other. They wait with bated breath for a minute, and then they feel it. A quick burst of pressure.

"Yup," Santana assures. "Definitely a kick."

Kurt and Blaine look to each other, wide-eyed with huge smiles on their faces, and once again, it's the little miracle that gets them through the rough times.

.

.

Santana tries to call Brittany, dialing the number with shaking fingers. But she always gets her voicemail, hearing it for the first time in months and it sends this little stab of intense pain through her chest, listening to Brittany's voice but knowing that she can't talk to her.

She sends apologies, and she pleads for forgiveness, however, Brittany never answers back, and all she can do is pray and wish and cry alone in her bedroom until they get the chance to work everything out.

.

.

The weeks drag on, and Kurt and Blaine realize they've got more than enough planning still left to do. They've got the nursery ready, they've got clothes and diapers, they've got a whole diet selected for when after Santana's done breastfeeding, from certain formulas to all kinds of real baby food.

But there's still important stuff like who's going to become the stay-at-home dad.

"Well, I don't have classes until the last week in August," Blaine says as they get ready for bed late on a summer night.

"But don't you have like, open house and – you have to prepare lesson plans and your classroom and stuff?" Kurt asks, securing a headband on his head to keep his greasy hair off of his face.

"Yeah," Blaine says, pulling the toothbrush from his mouth and spitting into the sink. "Right. Well – I mean. If I call now, I'm sure they'll have enough time to find someone to replace me for a few months. It'll be fine."

"Blaine, I can talk to my boss," Kurt argues, dabbing moisturizer on his face. "I can work something out. I have a secure spot within the company. I'm sure they could go on without me for the fall and winter collections. Jess can handle it."

"Are you sure?" Blaine asks, because he really loves his job, but he knows how important Kurt's is to him, and he doesn't want Kurt to have to give up something like that.

"Absolutely," Kurt assures.

"Okay," Blaine agrees. "You call your boss, but if he's not one hundred percent okay with it, I'm calling mine and setting up a long-term sub for the first semester."

But they're lucky, because Kurt calls, and by evening, he's set up a way for himself to work at home from his laptop, and his boss promises to be considerate and to not push deadlines so harshly.

Blaine is really glad he won't have to give up his job, and he thinks that coming home to find his husband taking care of their son is the most adorable mental image ever.

.

.

Santana is awoken to the sound of knocking on her apartment door.

She sighs as she rolls over, pushing herself carefully up and out of the bed, breathing heavily as she gets to her feet. She stumbles towards the front door, pulling it open with a jerk.

And there stands Brittany.

Santana's instantly awake, her heart racing.

"I'm sorry," Brittany says immediately. "I've been overreacting all the time these past months, and I – I still love you."

Tears spring to Santana's eyes, and she says quietly, "No – no, Brittany. I'm sorry. I don't always think before I say stuff, and I don't know when to shut up. And I – " she breaks off, giving a little laugh. "I've loved you as long as I can remember."

"So . . would you be okay if I came back?" Brittany asks.

Santana rolls her eyes. "Of course, Brit. That's all I've wanted since you left."

Brittany drops her suitcase to the floor and throws her arms around Santana, hugging her tightly. "I've missed you too, Santana. And I love you so much."

Santana leans back and kisses Brittany on the lips, soft and sweet.

"I love you too."

.

.

Just over eight months pregnant, and it's one of Santana's last appointments.

She sits on the edge of the bed like usual, hand on her stomach like usual, and Kurt and Blaine in their seats and holding hands like usual. The only difference is that Brittany stands by her side, gripping her free hand.

Dr. Smith does another ultrasound just to check up on how the baby is holding up. If he's comfortable in the womb, if his positioning is right, if he's having any issues.

He also asks Santana another multitude of questions feels around for abnormalities.

Brittany watches in awe the whole time, amazed that her girlfriend has gone through all this trouble just to help out two friends.

.

.

As Brittany helps Santana walk back to the car, she leans over and says quietly, "You're amazing, you know that right? For doing this?"

Santana smiles and struggles to give her a peck on the cheek. "I'm glad you think so."

.

.

It's August 7th, 2021.

They're out in the park, stretched out on a blanket when Santana goes into labor.

One minute, they're holding hands, and Brittany's giving her a soft kiss on the ear, and suddenly she feels the liquid. She freezes, sitting up straighter.

"What's wrong?" Brittany asks.

Santana's eyes are huge, and she's clutching her stomach protectively.

"My water just broke."

.

.

Brittany rushes her to the hospital, and she's started contracting as they stumble through the doorway and into the waiting area. As soon as they catch sight of her, Santana's issued a wheelchair, and a nurse rushes her to the Birthing Center.

.

.

Kurt and Blaine are both at work when they receive the call. Brittany calls Blaine because he's at the top of Santana's contacts. He's at a pre-school year faculty meeting, and his phone starts buzzing obnoxiously in his pocket. He takes it out sheepishly and sees that it's Santana and his heart leaps to his throat. He dashes from the room, answering it as soon as he gets into the hallway.

"Hello?" he asks hurriedly.

"Hi, Blaine, it's Brittany," she says. "And Santana's gone into labor."

Suddenly, the room is spinning around him, and he has to clutch to the wall for support.

"Alright, alright," he says, breath coming fast. "I'm going to call Kurt and then I'll be there as soon as possible."

He runs back into the conference rooms and packs his things up as quickly as he can. Seeing that everyone's staring at him, confused and expectantly, he explains.

"Our surrogate's going into labor. I'm about to become a father."

And he tears from the room without another word.

.

.

Kurt's sitting in his office, going through sketches and trying decide which ones to submit for the fall collection. His phone starts going off from inside his briefcase, and he leans down, searching for it. He pulls it out, and seeing that it's Blaine, hits TALK.

"Hey, honey, what's up?" he asks, but before he can get the full thing out, Blaine blurts, "Santana's gone into labor. Get to the hospital as fast as you can."

"Oh my god, are you serious?" Kurt asks, leaping up from his seat. "I'm coming – I'm on my way, Blaine."

He hangs up, stuffing his phone in his pocket, and collects his belongings from his desk before rushing out his office door. He goes next door, bursting into Jess's office.

"Hey – Jess, hi!" he says.

She looks up from her work, startled. "Hi, Kurt - what do you need?" she asks.

"Blaine's and my surrogate just went into labor," he says quickly. "Could you tell everyone for me?"

"Yeah, of course," Jess says, smiling widely. "Congratulations!" she shouts after his disappearing figure.

.

.

Blaine and Kurt arrive at the hospital at nearly the same time, skidding to a halt in the Birthing Center waiting room. They flash each other grins before heading to the receptionist.

"Hello," Blaine says. "Can you tell us what room Santana Lopez is in - we're the parents of the baby."

The receptionist scrolls through her computer. "Two-oh-five," she says. Just around the corner."

"Thank you," Kurt says, and then he and Blaine are sprinting down the hall.

The door is closed when they arrive, and they knock apprehensively. They hold their breath, bouncing on the balls of their feet until Brittany opens it, smiling.

"Hey guys," she greets, but the two of them push past her, running forward to see a sweaty Santana breathing heavily in the bed, curse words leaving her mouth every so often.

The nurse turns to them. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you guys doing in here?" he asks.

"We're the parents," Blaine explains. "She's our surrogate."

He nods. "Okay, but back up. Dr. Smith is going to need some room."

Santana let's out a scream as another contraction comes, and Brittany hurries forward.

"Fuck," Santana breathes, heaving a deep breath. "Brittany," she gasps out. "Get over here. I'm going to be squeezing your hand." She turns her head, looking towards the two men. "You too, Blaine. Get your ass over here. I'd ask for Kurt, but he looks like he's about to pass out."

Blaine glances towards his husband, who does look a lot paler than he usually does.

"You okay?" Blaine asks.

Kurt nods. "I'm fine – I just." He takes a deep breath. "This is so real." Already, tears begin to fall down his cheeks.

Blaine scoots over, and takes Kurt's hand. "Sweetheart," he starts. He smiles, giving a small laugh before he looks up into Kurt's shimmering blue-green eyes. "You're going to make a wonderful father." His voice is full of so much raw emotion, and doubled with the fact that it came out quieter than he intended, Kurt's tears simply fall faster.

"You too," he forces out, nodding.

They lean in, and share a fast, passionate kiss before Santana screams again.

Dr. Smith comes running through the door, and the chaos begins.

.

.

"Easy, Santana," Smith says. "Alright, just breathe."

She tries to take the constructed breaths, but instead lets out a struggled scream. Her grips on Brittany and Blaine's hands tighten and Brittany gasps, Blaine gritting his teeth. Kurt watches from the sidelines, hands over his mouth.

"Blaine," Santana grunts, "and Kurt Mother-fucking Hummel-Anderson." Another scream. "You two did this to me."

"Push, Santana," Smith instructs, and she does, letting out more, squeal- like screams as she does so.

"Come on, San," Brittany says. "You can do this."

"Push!"

"Come on, Santana. You're strong."

"Shut – the fuck – up – _Blaine_."

A few more rounds of this, and then a baby's cry echoes around the room.

Santana collapses against the bed, keeping her gaze at the ceiling. Brittany leans down to comfort her and tell her what a great job she's done.

Blaine freezes as Santana's hand falls from his grip. He moves subconsciously closer to Kurt, his eyes never leaving the small, bloody bundle. Kurt stares just as absorbed, his breath coming out in gasps. They listen to their son crying, desperate for his parents, and tears run thick and fast down their cheeks.

The team of nurses work fast to clean him up and wrap him in a blanket, and while they work, Kurt and Blaine quickly find each other's hands, gripping the other's fingers tightly, trying to stay strong.

Smith turns to them finally, a huge smile lighting up his tired face.

"Kurt, Blaine, would you like to see your son?"

Kurt reaches out his arms and takes the beautiful baby, and holds him in a way that allows Blaine to have firm grip on their son.

It's obvious right away whose he is, because no other baby would be born with such thick, dark hair.

"He's yours," Kurt whispers, choking a little on his words. "Just look at the hair. It'll be fully curled in no time."

Blaine shakes his head. "Biologically, he's mine. But really, he's _ours_."

Kurt inhales a shaky breath, trying to stop his sobs. "He's so beautiful," he breathes.

"Agreed," Blaine chokes.

They look up just for a second, glancing into each other's shining eyes, sharing this miracle of a moment.

"His name," Kurt says. "What are we going to name him?"

"I like one in particular," Blaine says. "And no, it isn't 'Spock'"

Kurt laughs shakily. "What is it?"

"Hayden," Blaine says firmly.

"Hayden Arthur," Kurt clarifies.

"Why 'Arthur'?" Blaine asks, sniffling.

Kurt smiles. "It means 'courageous.'"

Blaine lets out a noise between a sob and a laugh.

He looks back done at his son. "Welcome to the world, Hayden Arthur Hummel-Anderson."

.

.

The sky is beautiful, lit up with a number of sparkling stars. The night is dark, quiet and a gentle breeze moves the leaves in the trees. The occasional owl hoots in the branches, or a car passes through one of the neighboring streets.

Kurt stands out on the balcony, admiring everything.

He's not even sure how he's awake. He's hardly gotten any sleep the past week, being woken up every night by Hayden. But he's decided it's worth it.

He's just too happy care.

Behind him, the door is open and through his room, across the hall, Blaine's voice drifts, singing a soft melody to Hayden to try to get him to sleep.

That's they way it's been working. Kurt usually wakes up first, Hayden's cries reaching his ears, and he enters the room, walking over to the crib. He picks up his son, rocking him back and forth, humming a little and trying to get him to calm down.

But it doesn't work.

Blaine then senses Kurt isn't in the room, and he rolls over out of bed, knowing that it's Hayden. He'll come into Hayden's bedroom and tell his husband to go back to bed, that he'll get their son to sleep, and Kurt nods, handing off Hayden.

Kurt returns to their room, curling up on the bed and drifting off as he listens to Blaine sing, Hayden quieting down and closing his eyes at the sound of his daddy's voice.

Tonight however, it's hit Kurt that it's already been a week, but he feels like this is just a normal routine, like this is something he's used to. And he likes to think this was the way it was always meant to be, with him and Blaine married and living in an old Victorian house, a little son to care for.

As his thoughts get carried away, Blaine's singing stops and in a matter of minutes, Kurt hears footsteps coming behind him. Blaine's there, stepping to the edge of the balcony next to him.

"Finally get him to sleep?" Kurt asks, yawning.

"The lullabies always do it," Blaine says.

Kurt leans his head against Blaine's, and Blaine reaches out, taking his hand.

"I've been thinking," Kurt mumbles.

"'Bout what?" Blaine asks.

"Everything," Kurt says. "Us. Hayden."

"And?"

"And I'm just so happy," Kurt says. "It's like my life suddenly makes sense, and I just – it's so surreal. That this has all happened – that we have these opportunities. And Blaine – Blaine, I just want you to know that I love you – and Hayden – so very much."

Blaine chuckles softly. "I love you too, sweetheart. Both of you."

He wraps an arm around Kurt and turns to kiss his cheek. They stay like that for a few minutes, watching the stars twinkle and dance, and listening to the rustle of the leaves and the hooting of the owls.

And they decide that yes, this is the life they want.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** The more I look at this, the more I worry it's not that great. So, I really hope you actually enjoyed it.

Please review, especially if you favorite.

And thanks to Julie for beta-ing. (:


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